you lick me clean,
(no need for seconds)
i am dinner and desserts,
wrapped in one.
i have metamorphosed.
(you chipped and cracked until
the cocoon fell and shattered)
sticky air kisses my collarbone,
you slurp the salty water because no one can
satisfy you like I can.
the fields tingle through my old bones,
the lakes shiver upon my friable vents.
i am free, darling,
free only when i am with you.

the sun is calling all of us,
the wind is sneaking through our veins.
let our bones curve, not shake,
as the vines travel through our freckles.
your thighs may touch, but that is beautiful.
your stomach may not be flat, but that is beautiful.
your ribs may show, but that is beautiful.
do not let the scary monster of society lick you up.
frolic through the flowers, because you want to.
kiss the sand and soar through euphoria,
with nothing but shining eyes and crooked smiles.
you might have scars, but that is beautiful.
you might have stretch marks, but that is beautiful.
wear two pieces, one pieces, tank tops, sweaters, scarves,
because i will find you beautiful. and summer will find you beautiful.
dance with me into the sticky nights,
cry with me through the sunsets,
find your
beauty,
and ravish in it.
let us all be summer kissed,
and let us all be beautiful.

your body is my habitual enclave,
I know the roads, the routes, the rails,

the way it sparks in the night, how it creaks with the sun.
I coast your body like a map,
the compass in my palm quivers, the needle
whirls and swivels, disoriented, north left behind.
instead I will globe-trot through your anatomy,
with no concerns of foreign lands, with languages
of gibberish and people unfamiliar.
first, I will plunge into your shoulders,
gape at the brawn, the vastness,
compare them to the beautiful mountains seen in Colorado.
next, I will huddle in the wool of your torso,
stealing a quick snooze,
submerged in the berceuse of your coronaries.
afterward, I will drift among your hands,
skipping among the grooves,
stumbling upon the calluses.
then, I will float among your lips,
stealing speckles of salt while playfully
greeting your lingual.
and, and, and, my darling, this adventure
will exhaust me.
so I will traverse back, through your lips, your hands,
your torso, your shoulders, until
I come to my favorite monument.
they are waves full of sapphire, clashing among
charcoal thunderstorms, dancing along
fields of jade.
two orbs of magnificence (and mine)

you will smile, and ask how the journey was,
and I will reply, as always:

“unforgettable”

you bit valleys through my stomach last night,
gnawed your way through crevices on my neck,
nibbled love onto every orifice.
and today my body is numb with it all,
it is my favorite feeling.
when i glide my hand over, and the pain is raw,
fresh. new.
seeing the wounds, forming, gathering.
licking your name over and over on my lips,
searching for bits of you within my hair.
i ache, with throbs of pain, i ache, for you.
and next time i will tell you,
“no holding back”

darling, do you find me clingy?
you are the first who has stayed for longer then a
week.
you are the first who has spoken to me with truth,
instead of lies intertwined with alcohol and
lust.
so excuse the bite marks, the extensive sighs.
you are the first who has wanted my words,
not the stains within my legs,
or the dampness of my lips.
so excuse my nails that constantly scratch,
excuse the quiver my voice has when you
leave.
you are the first that has said,
“i love you”
and i have actually believed.
you are the first that has said,
“i will stay”
and actually have.

you are welcome to leave marks,
splashes, ink stains, scratches.
make some rough drafts,
until you reach your masterpiece.
my body is your canvas, my dear.
be creative. use blue,
use grey, use purple, use some
yellow for effect.
if you dare, use red.
i won’t complain,
i await your paint brushes,
your pencils,
your chalk.

i still suck my tummy in,
imagine it smooth.
my mom was surprised when i confessed
i was shirtless,
with nothing but my sports bra.
(at least I’m tan)
you say you like my tummy,
and some days I do too.
i still slap my thighs,
imagine scrawny flesh,
stretch marks are lost among
photoshop wonderland.
i’m an hourglass figure, you say,
but I find it silly we compare body types
to glasses, and fruit,
for we are a combination of things,
we are stars, and seas, and candy,
and railroad tracks that sometimes go around in circles until
we vomit.
i still see my limbs as different people,
and i wish i could detach them like the toxins in my lungs.
people like my ass,
so maybe that’s why I move it so much when I’m drunk.
people say I’m Arabic,
people say I’m Mexican,
people say I’m Muslim,
but really I’m all of those combined into a mixing bowl,
and one day maybe, I’ll make cupcakes
and swallow them whole.

i had waited too long for today.
heat sauteing upon toast skin.
“you have some caramel on your lip”
trying, with no effort to lick it off,
you kissed it, placing your tongue between
my teeth.
my hands and heart were sticky with melted custard.
summer’s calling me home.

i have grown dusty vines among your ribs,
etches of azure plunging through your apertures.
i could stay nestled inside your brain all day.
the temporal lobe is associated with memory,
so mine must be grey matter with paint marks
and holes deep enough to quiver.
i catch the breath you exhale,
gnawing at your thirst.
in your ribs, i want to remain. in your brain, i will stay.
darling, let’s be alive again tonight.
stain the sheets with every drop of our
humanity,
until we bleed, bleed, bleed,
together.

you were prodding my back earlier,
pressing fingers into knots,
snaking though worries and muscles
smacking palms against coils,
rattling old ghosts and sore tendons
I gritted my teeth.“poor darling, poor darling”
push more, I whimpered
“poor darling
will these ever leave?”
a doctor could possibly,
but I know what she’ll say,
stop lifting, stop worrying so.

I think my demons find my way into my spine,
and they entwine through osseous
but, I want your fingers on my back,
your knuckles thrashing me until I scream,
because our love is like you trying to destroy these
knots;
you attempt to destroy what cannot be destroyed,

and I love you more every time.

he says i’m beautiful, in the morning,
when my hair is a cluster fuck of tangles and knots,
when my skin is indented, chaffed from his bristles,
when my legs are beginning to grow the hair that for some
reason is not supposed to ever be there,
he says i’m beautiful, in the morning,
when i groan and shy away from the prospect
of the day
he says i’m beautiful,
he says i’m beautiful every morning,
until, he says, i can wake up every morning
and believe it, too.

“tell me i’m beautiful”

i wear my insecurities like my eyeliner, bold,
thick, never exactly matching,
never exactly perfect.
i embrace my flaws, like i shake
my ass when i dance,
unsteady. wild, a flame that festers
and blossoms.
i kiss my demons, like i eat a
milkshake, salivating, slurping,
a lover with no inhibitions.

i do not wear my insecurities,
instead i shove them down my throat,
hoping the stomach acid will dissolve.
destroy. them.
i do not embrace my flaws,
instead i push them back hard,
watching them fall to the ground and
break like glass.
i do not kiss my demons,
instead i spit in their faces, bite on
their cheeks until the hot, pulsing
tastes like
peppermint.

I had a dream recently,
where you were fucking
me,
and it was so goddamn hilarious,
because you were awful.


before waves, I used to imagine you
being the one to anchor me until the chains
ripped my skin to bone.

before sun rays, I used to think you
were the only one who could make my flesh
burn and peel and never ever heal.

before alcohol, I used to get foolishly drunk
on you. and you. and you.

i was a hunk of fish being hacked away by a
unsharpened butcher knife.
the hunks and guts splattered all over the apron.

you used to say i was beautiful,
and i guess i can’t believe it anymore because
you ripped my spine out only to place the bones
wrong and walking has never felt the same.

this dream never made sense, like the rest of them,
i swim through them with too much salt in my lungs
and the ocean keeps trying to drown. Drown. Drown. Me.

see you again, in a dream, in a wave, in a lie.
the thing is, i sort of want you inside,
but i only know you’ll crash.break.rip.stomp.
and my skin is already mangled

I cannot stay up too late by myself.
If I do, all the bad thoughts come
and the sadness expands, and floats
and explodes.
I think of all the flaws, how I am always
the giver.
how the future is so close, yet I can’t
make a path
(of any sorts)
how my scars will never truly fade.
I think of how I am always the one who
loves more.
and I think of people. and how someone is
awake. and breathing. and dying. and having
breakfast, right now. half away across the world.
I think of how we are all just a bunch of stars,
and I think of how we’re all just crashing into
each other.
(over and over and over)

I cannot stay up so late, with the night being
my only companion.
so I sleep.
because sleep is always more welcoming than
reality.

i did not shower today,
for i still feel the last few slips of heat
from your throat.
i did not shower today,
for the thought of you squirming
inside, makes me shiver.
i did not shower today,
for your teeth are eating my
collarbone. it looks like a lovely birthmark.
i did not shower today,
for washing you off would be lonely
and idiotic.
i did not shower today,
because i know your scent will be
trapped in my hair
and at some point in the middle of the
night, i will wake up, and forget, that
you are not here.

summer, spring, winter, fall,
it always carried a whiff of cleanliness, like lysol,
bleach and daffodils had made a not so secret love
child.
there were never any marks. no signs of mistakes,
accidents, humanity.
the floors glistened like the sun beaming off a black
convertible.
the windows, you couldn’t even tell they were
windows. not without the panes.
transparent like the shores of the Mediterranean.
I never touched anything.
I held my breath among glass, ornaments, picture frames.
afraid one intake would show up like a smudge that could
never be wiped off, no matter how much one tried.
she fits the house. like those china dolls, polished to perfection.
blonde hair rolled in unison curls. no frizz. never any
fly aways.
face just like those windows, eyes raging in a storm too far away.


his room was the only one i could sink in.
legos scattered
(i always stepped on the yellow ones)
clothes fuming with dirt and almost manhood.
his posters crooked, carrying characters dressed in
armor, or tuxedos, animated, weapons in hand.
his bed, never made, incasing the last impression of his body
(he always slept on his side)
a spot of drool still visible, blankets holding his scent.
soap, laundry detergent and oranges.
game controllers trashed, bite marks, dents, too many battles.
i finally breathed when i walked in.

purple, hazy hues.
yellow nuance, murky blossoms.
where are they?
azure tinge mixed in the honey.
canvas is blank,
with only galling white scribbles,
grey and ebony ink written.
enter, my darling
let me suck your fangs.
press. press. press.
my locks swathed in your fingers.
hard, my love, hard.
into my bones. film. upon layer.
upon membrane.
the blemishes,
your art.
tonight, we are animals,
so no time for serene.
passion.
howl with me,
consume me.

you are like the phone in the pocket
of my skinny jeans.
tight, barely fitting.
always threatening to find
a way
out.

you said my skin was
cinnamon.
i wonder if it
tasted like it too.
your skin was cigarette ash & vodka.
my tongue is thick with it.

1 text in,
i hate the way my heart squeezes,
the way i see your eyes crashing into
me.

2 texts in,
i will away the urge to call you up
make you believe i’m some whore you
always wanted me to be.

3 texts in,
i fall asleep with the thought of you,
a you i’ve made up.
we were just like this text messages.

fake.
deleted too easily.